


Disciples of Beauty

by avari20



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: AU, Caroline stole something, F/M, Klaus wants it back, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, art thief Caroline, art thief Klaus, he'll take all the party favors he can carry while he's at it, no vampirism, these two are hot in nearly any context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avari20/pseuds/avari20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus is an art thief with his eye on the Royal Bird, a 38 carat diamond of exquisite beauty. The night that he was set to take it, however, it was snatched from under his nose by the Shadow. When he discovers that delectable Caroline Forbes and the Shadow are one and the same, the gloves come off. AU/AH, tumblr prompt for Klaroline Wednesday, complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unseen

**Part One: Unseen**

 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...” I repeated rhythmically, like saying it with a deliberate pattern was going to help keep me calm. Actually—I might have been saying it just in my head. I wasn't sure. Panic does that.

I stared up at the door, my grip on a very, very expensive mini-statue tightening until I was pretty sure it would crack.  _I'm trapped. Trapped like a rat in the digital age._

“ _Caroline?”_

My free hand flew to my earlobe. “Are you serious, Stefan?” I hissed into the ear piece. Mic tastefully disguised as a pearl earring? My idea. “You said that you'd shut down the sensors!”

“ _Tell me what's going on.”_ No hesitation, no back talk. My partner in crime was in it to win it.

Which didn't help my current situation at all. “The door snapped shut like one of those Temple of Doom set ups.”

Typing. “All of the electronics routed to that room were diverted. The only way something like that could have happened was--”

Ringing. Mechanical feedback so loud I almost screeched. Then silence. “Stefan?” I repeated, half hoping he'd respond...knowing he wouldn't.

“Old tricks are the best tricks, they say.”

My heart sank. I knew that voice.

Holding the statue to my chest, I turned. “Klaus Mikealson.”

He stood on the other side of the room. No idea how he got there. This room was set up like someone's basement, with bare concrete walls and naked floors. If it weren't for all of the high grade security linked up to this place, I would have thought it was some uptown yuppy's unfinished Man Cave.

Now I had the sneaking suspicion it was actually an evil lair.

His mouth curled into a half smile. “Love.”

Love. Only someone with his accent could pull that nickname off. I'd bet every piece of my stolen art collection that he did—pull it off, that is. Often. With many, many women.

God, he was gorgeous. The florescent lights just did him favors.

“Didn't expect to meet again under this kind of circumstance.” I shifted to the side. There was a good chance that whatever was interfering in the feed was electronic. All electronics had a range.

Even if the jammer reached further than I could, there was a backup plan in place. Multiple backups, in fact. It was only a matter of minutes before Stefan broke me out.

Fortified by the thought, I lifted my chin.

His eyes glittered when he tilted his head. “Yes, well, one usually doesn't expect his evening's delight to steal from him.”

I blinked. “What?” No way did I just hear that right. “First of all, I was not your _evening delight_.” The bunny ears were a little lopsided since I only had use of one hand. “We danced, we flirted, then I gracefully melted into the crowd. Second, I didn't steal from you.”

He tugged the cuff of his Henley down on his wrist. It was a far cry from the tux he was wearing last time, but I had to admit, he worked the look. “Well, darling, that's where you're wrong. The Royal Bird was slated for my collection, not yours.”

The Royal—holy mother of—Klaus Mikealson was the _Original_? _The_ Original, renowned jewel thief?

I burst out laughing. Hysteria? Disbelief? “Of course. I should have realized.” The expensive clothes, the ego he carried around like a physical weight on his shoulder. “Did you set all of this up because I stole something you wanted to steal?”

He put his hands behind his back, far from amused. “I'm territorial.”

A slight shiver wound its way over my skin. He'd lowered his chin to stare at me, a wolf eyeing its prey, mentally debating what to do with it. “You don't think it's a bit much? We're both professionals.”

“Oh, darling. I'm not a _professional_. I'm a lover. A disciple of beauty. I would never steal anything for so crass a reason as profit.”

Well, neither did I. Sure, there were jobs I took to put a little away for a rainy day on some remote island that catered solely to my needs. The cost of living, you know.

The truly beautiful pieces—like the Royal Bird—stayed in my private collection. All 38 carats of that diamond waited in my vault for the perfect display case. As soon as I found it, I planned to spend many hours admiring it from every angle.

That being said, I didn't appreciate the snooty tone of the conversation. “An art dealer can be both a professional and a disciple of beauty, so I don't think your argument holds, Klaus.”

He smiled to himself, ambling closer like he didn't have a care in the world. “Fair point. What say you and I discuss it further over a glass of wine?” A slow, heated look raked me from head to toe. “Champagne, perhaps? I'd love to poke around all the nuances of our chosen field.”

Now why did I get the feeling that wasn't a choice? “You know, that would sound fun...if you didn't have me trapped in an underground bunker.”

Both eyebrows shot up. “And how did you get here, Caroline? Did your friend Stefan Salvatore tell you this was certain success?”

Cold crept down my spine. He was getting too close. “How did you know about Stefan?”

“How could I not? I've done quite a bit of investigating since our last encounter.” He stopped less than a foot away, expression morphing into the admiration you'd see in an art gallery. “The infamous Shadow,” he murmured. “How lovely.”

Not good. None of this was good—not the strange, hypnotic quality of his timbre, not the way his proximity messed with my ability to breathe like a normal person, and not the way he knew far too much about me.

I wet my lips. “Stefan picked out the name.”

“I'm certain he did. Strangely fanciful, that Stefan. Quite unlike his toerag of a brother.”

Toe—Okay, time to back up. Or go to the side, because giving any ground to this man seemed like a very bad idea.

But his hand shot out before I could make my move. “The statue please, love.”

There was a buzz. It was small, too low for Klaus to hear, but just the telltale vibrato in my left lobe sent a wave of relief rushing through me. Stefan was on his way, maybe less than a minute out.

Desperate times. “Oh, you mean this?” I held the statue straight out—away from him.

Annoyed, he shook his head. “Don't play games with me, love. That would be a mistake.”

“You seem awfully concerned with it. Must be something special.” _Hurry up, Stefan._

I was never baking him cookies again for as long as I lived if I survived this.

_Lighten up, Caroline. Stop being so controlling, Caroline. I can handle this, Caroline. That is my job after all, Caroline--_

“That is a seventeenth century original casting of Charlotte de Thelay's bronze. Which you well know.” The last bit was growled.

Of course I knew. It was a masterpiece. One of the few surviving works by a largely overlooked female artist.

But this was the dumb blonde play, and admitting any of that would get me into bigger trouble than I was already in. “Really? I just thought it was pretty.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that.” His tone implied much, more more. His fingers curled. “Hand it over, love.”

“I don't know,” I singsonged. “My palm's kind of sweaty from being nervous. I don't like people crowding me.”

He stilled. “Caroline.”

My breath caught.

“No matter what happens, you cannot be unseen.”

Translation— _You are on my radar_.

Why was it suddenly so hard to tear my eyes from his? And my heart...it was like being a teenager again. Back then it was hard to know if you liked someone...or were terrified of them.

Klaus' lips turned up knowingly. He knew exactly what reaction he was inspiring.

He reveled in it.

Just when I thought my pulse couldn't handle anymore, the earring buzzed again.

Showtime.

I gathered up my courage. _Forgive me, Art History, for I am about to sin._ “I guess it's—Oops!” At the last possible second I lobbed the statue up and over his head.

Just as predicted, he dove for it.

The door slid open with a violent bang nearly at the same moment. “Caroline!”

_That's what the planning skills of a control freak will get you, Stefan._

I dashed for the door, not pausing to look back. I knew he'd be coming for me the instant he was able to. Nobody crossed Klaus Mikealson.

Nobody tried to smash his stuff and live.

“Run!” I snapped at Stefan as I passed.

He was right beside me. “What the hell happened in there?”

_I was trapped in a small space with a man who is both terrifying and fascinating and I'm not sure how I feel about it._ “Just run!”

We did. We followed the exit strategy to a T, meeting next to no resistance. It wasn't going to be that easy, though. I knew that the moment I turned around and saw him watching me in that hungry way. I'd gotten away today, but tomorrow? The day after?

Stefan gunned the car and tore out of the hedge he'd hidden behind. We made it to the road, wind whipping my hair back through the open window. We were empty handed, but we were alive.

The question was, how long would that last?

We slipped into traffic—the perks of having a taxi as your getaway vehicle—blending into the city's busy nightlife seamlessly.

“What happened?” Stefan asked again.

“We were made,” I said grimly. “What happened with the door?”

“Old school pulley system. A work of art if you're into it. The guy?”

“Klaus Mikealson.”

“Klaus--” His head dropped back, almost messing up his perfect hair. “Okay. It could be worse.”

“It is. He's the Original.”

Stefan's head whipped around. Shock, then realization flared. “Damon,” he growled.

Figured my biggest regret would have some part in this. “He knew and didn't tell you about Klaus.”

“Sometimes I think you should be glad to be an only child.” He squeezed and released the steering wheel. “Now what?”

“Now we go to my private plane and start island hunting. Hire a few mercenaries while we're at it, because we're going to need all the help we can get.”

“If half the rumors about Klaus are true? We might need an army.”

Fantastic. And I threatened to smash his one of a kind de Thelay all over the concrete floor.

Maybe I succeeded.

My heart squeezed. Hunted. Possible destroyer of amazing art. I didn't know which I felt worse about.

I leaned my temple on my fist and closed my eyes. Three weeks ago this was all so simple. I met a beautiful man at a ball. When we danced...we didn't just dance. He partnered me the way people in the movies flowed together. When Stefan gave me the cue to get out of there and get the diamond, I didn't exactly skip away from the party. I wanted to stay. Wanted to flirt. Because I deserved some semblance of a social life, even if it was a lie. Why not pretend with a man who danced like that?

Forking my fingers through my hair, I sighed. Pretending never served anyone. The cold hard truth was the way things really worked.

The sexy man I danced with was now gunning for blood and revenge. Sticking around to find out which he'd go for first would be the height of stupidity.

“ _No matter what happens, you cannot be unseen.”_

I believed him.


	2. Disciple

**Part Two: Disciple**

 

“A girly gun?” I said to the snub nosed revolver pointed at my face. “Really?”

“It's the twenty first century, love. Let's not assign genders to our weaponry.”

Great. He was a feminist. Under other circumstances that would have made me incredibly happy. Seeing as how I was on the wrong end of a hold up, however, _happy_ was not the first word that jumped to mind.

“I must give you credit, Caroline. You eluded me longer than most.”

Gee. What a compliment. “How's the statue?” _Oh my god._ Was I suicidal? Who reminded an art thief of a piece she may or may not have destroyed? While he was holding a freakin' _gun_?

Sometimes I had to wonder what went on with my mouth.

Still, I was not going to cower. Not now. Not ever. I was done with that part of my life.

“In one piece, no thanks to you.” His mouth quirked beneath his aviators. “You owe me for a sprained shoulder. Among other things.”

“You could send me a bill. One that isn't loaded.”

“Ah, but I need your undivided attention.”

Well, he had it. “Look, I've said it once and I'll say it again: isn't this a bit much?”

His lips—his very pretty lips, damn him—pursed in thought. “You're right.”

I was?

“One should never woo a lady under armed coercion.”

Do what?

The gun disappeared from my line of vision, letting my eyes uncross for the first time in way too long. He clicked on the safety and calmly slipped it into his shoulder holster.

A man should not look that good in a button up and casual suit. He was an art thief, not James Bond.

And this was Croatia, not Egypt. Palm trees aside.

I narrowed my eyes. “I should kick your butt for pointing a gun at my face, you creep.”

Jesus! How much alcohol was in that margarita I drank at lunch?

If I could have gotten away with face palming, I would have.

“Yes, well, I'm out of practice with the dating scene.”

“If this is your idea of romance, I can see why. Also, we are not dating. This is not some weird game of chase.”

“Isn't it? I must have misunderstood. I do so hate it when that happens.”

Not going to address that. “Why are you here, Klaus?”

He took off his sunglasses, folded down the ear pieces, and stuck them in his breast pocket. “Oh, so many reasons, not the least of which how much I enjoy Vis. When I discovered you—my quarry--”

Thanks for the reminder.

“--had come to this particular island, I knew I had to follow. Although it is a shame. I was rather hoping you had gone to Rab.”

The island with the nudist beach? “Of course you did.”

“You must admit that the medieval buildings are quite enchanting.” He flashed a dimpled smile that reminded me way too much of that first night.

The ball.

My heart squeezed a little. That was an illusion, I reminded myself. Not to mention way before I stole from a guy who called himself the Original. “Cut to the chase, okay? What do you want?”

“Three things.” He took a step forward. “The Royal Bird.”

Another step.

“Revenge.”

A third step, just a hairsbreadth away. “And you.”

I should have expected it. I saw it coming from a mile away.

I wasn't counting on the impact the words would have. Pulse stutter. Lungs freezing.

What was this feeling?

“In the two weeks since we last saw each other,” he continued softly, reaching up to brush away a loose tendril from my cheek, “I have been trying to think of a way to have all three.”

The ego. The confidence.

You'd think a former beauty queen would have a better handle on public speaking, but the heart in my throat was blocking the words.

“Any thoughts on the matter, Caroline?”

I inhaled. “I think...you're very used to getting your way.”

“True.” He was studying my lips now. “Have you ever been painted?”

Not unless he counted that misspent year partying it up on the rave circuit, trying to get over Damon. Not a good memory. Could barely call it a memory. More like a drunk blur.

That was the year I discovered I was good at stealing things, strangely enough. Lowered inhibitions meant lots of sex and taking trophies on the way out of the door.

His eyes rose to meet mine.

It was electric. Like the night at the ball all over again.

Contrary to popular opinion, the chemical shock between two people was not a good thing. It made you lose your head, ending up with you bedhopping, trying to figure out why you weren't good enough. Why it didn't work out. Why he treated you the way that he had. If you were stupid or just naive for falling for it.

You know what was good? Money. Art. Security. Timeless beauty that withstood everything the centuries could throw at it, surviving against all the odds. I could count on that. Bank on it.

Klaus Mikaelson was beautiful, but he wasn't secure. In fact, he was the least safe option out there.

I swallowed and firmed up my resolve. “No.”

“Would you like to be?”

That wasn't what I meant, but let's go with it. “Some day. Not by you.”

A shadow crossed his eyes, though he hid it well. “Oh? Who said anything about me?”

“Here's the deal, Klaus. If you want money for the statue you tried to trick me into taking,” _entrapment, much?_ “then I might be convinced. As for the Royal Bird, it stays with me. I stole it fair and square.”

His gaze heated. “Am I to assume that you are off the table as well?”

I didn't like his tone. “I was never on it.”

“Hmm. You know, Caroline, Western society teaches men that persistence will eventually get him what he wants.”

“Not when what he wants is a woman. No means no.” Why was I discussing this?

“Again, quite true, love.”

I was getting really freaked out by him agreeing with me.

Suddenly he stepped back. “Well, we've done the obligatory chase scene. I suppose the only thing left to do is to make you want to come to me.”

That...did not sound good.

And the loss of his presence made me aware of how warm it suddenly wasn't.

I eyed him warily. He was up to something. It was written all over that smug smirk. “What are you thinking?”

Mirth twinkled. “Now that's my secret, isn't it?” He held a finger over his mouth for emphasis.

Bullshit. “You don't have a plan.”

“Word to the wise, Caroline—I _always_ have a plan.” He tilted his head. “Until next time.”

He walked back a few steps, gave my sarong and sandals one last appreciative glance, then turned and strode away.

I stood stock still, watching him until he went past the pool, down the steps, and disappeared from sight. Only then was I able to let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

What...was...that?

I looked around at the white stone, the poolside loungers, wondering if any of them would give me a clue. The umbrella wasn't offering any answers. Neither did my abandoned sun hat.

It was like he was never here--

The ringing of my cell phone made me jump. “ _I fall in love just a little ole little bit every day with someone new...”_

I ran over and cut off Hozier with a flick of my thumb. “Stefan.”

“Caroline. I've got bad news.”

I closed my eyes, threading my fingers through my hair. “Would it have anything to do with Klaus Mikaelson?”

A beat. “Shit.”

“He's here.”

“Wait. What?”

My eyes popped open. “Tell me you knew that.” Why else would he be calling?

“Is he right there? Right now?”

“Stefan Salvatore, you are already on a cookie ban. So help me--”

“He stole the Royal Bird. Five minutes ago.”

“WHAT?” I screeched. “How is that possible?” I ran over to the wall that cut off the pool from the street below, bending over. There weren't a ton of people milling around down there, but a quick look told me that Klaus wasn't anywhere in sight.

Of course he wasn't.

“It gets worse. He left a note. _Until next time_.”

“He—I--” Unable to articulate how enormously pissed off and unbelievably discombobulated I was, the only thing that I could do was stand there and let out an inhuman noise.

Wasn't enough. “How was that possible?” I shouted into the phone, squeezing it with both hands like I was choking Stefan Salvatore's pretty boy neck personally. “It was in the freakin' vault!” The one he himself designed!

At least he had the grace to sound embarrassed. “There was another note.”

I grit my teeth. Oh this I had to hear. “!here?”

“On your bedroom door.”

 _That son of a bitch._ “Was it open? As God as my witness, if that creeper set one foot into my bedroom, I am going to be wanted for murder.”

“Uh, no. Doesn't seem to have done more than pin it to the surface.”

Pin? “Spit it out, Stefan.”

“It was a drawing. Of you.”

_Have you ever been painted?_

I was going to kill him. No, not kill. Destroy. Tear into tiny pieces and scatter to the four winds. First he stole my stuff, then he played mind games.

Taking a deep breath to calm my raging emotions, I flicked a lock of hair back and smoothed my sarong carefully. “He wants a war? We'll give it to him.”

“I'm not sure that was the--”

“You don't get to talk,” I snapped. “You were in charge of the security. Twice. And he outsmarted you. Twice. What do you think that's going to do to your reputation? Our reputation?”

Silence.

That's what I thought.

“We may have to bring Damon in on this.”

That rat fink? I'd rather drown myself in the gorgeous blue ocean I had the perfect view of. No, I reminded myself. Professionalism. “He knows the most about Klaus. I suggest you two have a powwow and get back to me. In the meantime I'll be booking the next flight out.” All of my vacation dreams of margaritas and babe watching and relishing my loot were like so many dried up prunes. “I'll see you in the next few days.”

I disconnected without waiting for a reply.

Klaus Mikaelson. Disciple of beauty, huh?

He chose the wrong blonde to mess with.

 


	3. Gone, but not Forgiven

**Part Three: Gone but not Forgiven**

 

“I must say, love—as far as first dates go, this surpasses expectations.”

She snorted, arms crossed over her delectable chest. “I'll bet you say that to all the girls.”

Hardly. But that was a conversation for another time, preferably when I was not tied to a chair.

 _Well_ , I mentally corrected, smirk widening, _I suppose I could revisit the experience, provided there are more candles and fewer clothes._ “What was little move called? I quite liked it.”

“Double back flip,” she proudly informed me. “You're looking at the former head of the cheer squad.”

“Yes, I know.”

I was aware that I should have been a great deal angrier. Caroline Forbes had a disturbing talent for catching me unawares.

It was difficult to pinpoint what exactly made her so delicious to me. Her blonde hair was lovely, but nothing extraordinary. Her form was pleasing, still athletic despite the number of years that had passed since high school. Her blue eyes were simply that.

But nevertheless I wanted her. She called to a part of me the way art called to the public. It was something mysterious and illogical, pure on an emotional level. I had long ago given up trying to define it. It was the whole of her that made me want her.

Lovely, clever, proud, alluring Caroline.

I drummed my fingers on the armrests. “What are we taking today, love? I'm still quite put out about the Titian.”

She brushed her hair behind a shoulder. “You got it back quick enough.”

Some of my amusement faded. “Yes, but at the sacrifice of one of my rare bottles from Duke of Clarence's wine cellar.”

A smile creased her cheeks. “Yeah,” she drawled, eyes cloudy with memory, “that was an excellent wine.”

“It was a four-million-pound vint--” I caught myself. Calm. No good came of giving her an emotional advantage.

Apparently that particular skirmish still stung for her as well, because her finger came straight up and jabbed at the air in my direction. “Well, _you_ shouldn't have taken my—no, nope, we are going to argue about this again.”

“Indeed,” I bit out.

“This time I went for the big game.”

“That's what you've said every time before, love, and you've hardly come up--”

She held out her hand.

The Royal Bird glittered in her fingers, as exquisite and mesmerizing as ever.

Dread filled me. “How did you find it?”

“I guess Stefan finally got tired of you outsmarting him.”

It wouldn't have been so easy if the supposedly smarter Salvatore had seen fit to change his online name.

Ripper, indeed.

I sighed. “What's it to be, then? Do you have another vault hidden somewhere? I'm sure I'll discover where it is before long.” This game between us was far from over.

Her expression grew calculating. “I have a different idea.”

I kept my smirk firmly in place.

She wandered closer, settling down on her haunches. “It's been six months.”

“By far my longest relationship with a woman. Were you thinking of commemorating it?”

“I was thinking that this has been fun, but like all good things, it must come to an end.”

The smirk faded. “I disagree.”

She held up the diamond again, turning it so it caught the light. She seemed as transfixed by it as I might have been. “This started it all.”

I was in no mood for prevarication. “Get to the point, Caroline.”

“Equal division of assets.”

“Are you suggesting we _cut_ it?” She might as well have informed me she wanted to spray paint _We wuz here_ on the Mona Lisa. “Have you lost your mind?”

She stood up in exasperation. “Well, what do you suggest? Because I can't keep doing this. You coming after my stuff, me stealing from, bigger and better heists, more complicated security—when was the last time you actually stole anything? Frankly, I can't remember.”

“All I hear is that I have been keeping you too busy for a social life.”

“And that's not okay, Klaus. We cannot get wrapped up in each other like that.”

“Why,” I growled, “not?”

She stilled, watching me with wide eyes. “Reasons,” she said, recovering herself. “A lot of reasons, not the least of which being we're art thieves. There's no happily ever after there.”

There were two things that kept me from scoffing at her idea of romance. One, the fact that she had thought of romance at all. Two, that she had thought of it in connection with me.

And I was not averse to that at all.

These last few months had been a blur of activity. I would be the first to admit that Caroline Forbes had grown from a pretty blonde to someone that occupied my thoughts on a daily basis. So much so that even proper Elijah had remarked upon it. _“Do stop making a spectacle of yourself, Niklaus. You are no longer a boy tugging on a girl's pigtails.”_

Call it whatever he liked, this was my game. My rules. “Would this sudden reticence have anything to do with the reappearance of one Damon Salvatore in your life?”

She grew wary. “How did you know about that?”

“Stefan ought to really wonder what side his brother is truly on.”

She didn't bother to ask how I knew that would affect her personally. She had more faith in my investigative ability than that. “What's it to you?”

“Everything, if such an event convinces you to withdraw.”

“I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions.”

“Can you? Then one wonders why we are still at this stage of our relationship?”

“Do you even know what you want?”

_You._

I had told her that once. I would not repeat myself.

“Let's just call this what it is, Klaus. A diversion. Something that burns bright and hot and then fizzles.”

“I do not fizzle.” Ever.

She suddenly laughed. “No, how stupid of me. Of course you don't.”

Her eyes warmed with what could only be called affection, further proof that this little confrontation had deeper roots than Caroline wanting a social life.

Silence fell while she looked at me. I doubt she was aware of how long. “Why don't you untie me, love, and we'll discuss this further?”

“No means no, remember? You're supposed to be a gentleman about it.”

“That presupposes I am a gentleman.”

“Aren't you?”

No.

Yes.

Damn her to the deepest depths of hell. This was not how the story was supposed to end. “This is not over.”

“Sure it isn't,” she agreed in that way that suggested she knew better.

Damn her again.

Suddenly she loomed in front of me, hands on the armrests, giving me an up close view of that beautiful face. “This is goodbye, Klaus.”

My jaw tightened.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

Quite suddenly breathing became much more difficult. Her scent wafted up my nose. She was wearing that perfume I liked.

 _Caroline_.

She came to a decision. “One for the road.”

That could not mean--

Her lips settled on mine, soft and pink and delicious.

It did.

She kissed me in the sweetest, most innocent fashion of my life. She tasted like champagne and...brightness, her hand cupping my cheek.

I didn't have time to react. For once, I don't believe I could have. I was...arrested.

_Caroline._

She drew back with a hitched breath, staring into my eyes. I couldn't look away, watching every minute expression that flitted across her face.

She bit her bottom lip as if to taste me again, humming.

Then she stood.

I was mute.

“Bye, Klaus,” she said softly. She turned and walked out of the room with one last lingering glance over her shoulder.

Then she was gone.

Gone, but certainly not forgotten. Or forgiven. Or any other bloody adjective that suggested this was over between us.

Oh, the game was done. No more of that.

I was in earnest now.

There was no saving either one of us now.

Time to drown.

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, lovely Reader! Tell me how you felt about it. What was your favorite part?


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